Page 44 of Healing the Leonid Doctor's Heart

Operating out of pure muscle memory, he fed the vial into the hemoanalyzer and switched on his tablet, yawning as he pressed the needle to Abi’s thigh. She barely moved when he took a bit of blood, her confused moan sleepy and adorable.

“I need my shot,” Abi muttered sleepily, holding out her arm.

“Let me see what adjustments we have to make.” Marcus rubbed one paw across his eye and started unpacking the booster serum from its cryo-sealed tube. “You should be seeing a drop in your progester— Wait.”

“I’m waiting,” Abigail mumbled, curling more tightly into a ball.

Marcus was suddenly wide awake, looking at the numbers the hemoanalyzer was spitting out.

Progesterone 180 ng/mL.

His heart seemed to stop, and he smacked himself in the chest to ensure that his finally healed heart didn’t give out now, even though it might be skipping a beat in happy disbelief.

FCG 18,000 per unit.

“Abigail.”

His voice was so soft and so serious that Abi was instantly alert, sitting up and blinking into the early light. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m what?” Abi gasped, trying to climb out of the hammock.

Marcus hastened to help her. “Your progesterone level is sky high, and your FCG—that’s the Felid pregnancy marker—is way out of range. In the best way! I mean... Abi, I don’t want to get your hopes up, but with these numbers, there is likely more than one cub.”

Abi put her hands on her middle, eyes now wide awake and wide in general. “Pregnant? We actually... We actually are?”

“Blood tests can’t lie. Can’t be mixed up with someone else’s, either. We’re on a deserted island, and yours is the only blood being tested. You’re pregnant.”

“Oh, Marcus, I — We’re not going to stop the adoption, though, are we? We can’t just leave a cub who needs us behind!” Abigail declared.

“And just when I think I can’t love you any more, Abigail,” he whispered, cupping her face in his palms, pulling her close for a kiss.

“It’s mutual, Marcus,” she whispered back, moving his paw from her cheek to join her hand over her middle. “Would you mind awfully if we left our pre-honeymoon early and went back home?”

Home. She called his ship home. The Queen he was in love with, the Queen who cared about his people, his work, andwho was carrying his children, would choose him over all the romantic getaways and luxuries she deserved.

“I wouldn’t mind in the least, my love. I can’t wait to take you—and our cubs—home.”